My name is Basta
by CaptainMajor
Summary: Life from Basta's point of view in a journal format! Basta has many secrets you know! Reviews are welcome but NO flames. Hope you enjoy! chapter 8 is up. thnx to those who reviewed! :D
1. IntRoduCtioN

My name is Basta

**My name is Basta. That's it. Just Basta. No last name. No middle name. B-A-S-T-A. Got it? That's good. I wasn't always called Basta. As a matter of fact, my original name was quite different. I can't exactly remember it, but I think it started with a D. I think. Anyways, I don't exactly have it easy. I mean, my job is simple enough. Strike a match here, slit a throat there… but I mean emotionally. What kind of girl would want to lay with a guy who slits throats? Who would want to lie with a guy who is poor, slits throats and has no romantical know how? That's right. Nobody. So here I am, 23 years old, and unloved. Unwanted. Uncared for. So life's up to me. You're probably thinking: if life is SO bad, why don't you change it. Well, that's a great question. But, I don't know the answer. Seriously. But I do ponder it. Nightly, actually. I lay awake, looking up at the ceiling of my bedroom. (I don't sleep much. As a matter of fact, I always look like a raccoon because me eyes are surrounded with dark purple rings). Ok, so we're getting no where. You're probably weirded out that you're associated with a guy who slits throats for a living. But, to be honest, I'm not that bad. **

**Ok, ok, so I am. But whoever said that I enjoyed killing people? No one. AHA! Alright, please, I don't mean to bore you! Give me a chance, and I will tell you what I am like. Mentally and physically. Ok, so here I am below: **

**I heard that I looked like Tim Roth. I also heard that I looked like Viggo Mortensen. I also, also heard that I look like a cross between Tim Roth AND Viggo Mortensen. (I don't know who those people are but they must be fine looking!) My eyes are blue-green. I look like I wear eye liner, but I don't. I promise that I don't wear makeup. I swear it. I am thin. Ok, well, let's say slender…or does that sound too girly? Slim. There. Slim. I have a narrow chest and shoulders, but I'm strong. Not Arnold Schwarzenegger strong (who is?) but I can lift stuff and hold down a struggling man. My hair is dark brown. The color of coffee. It is not very long, but it's not crew cut short. It's about 2 inches long, and sticks up all over the place. (I've tried to slick it before, but it didn't work. Ladies, is sticky-uppy hair attractive?) My skin is naturally fair, but tanned from the sun. I prefer tanned skin. On myself… **

**About my clothes, I wear the same thing all the time. I have a pair of black skinny jeans (my favorite) and black slacks (my least favorite). I wear white button up shirts (they MUST be long sleeved!). I have black boots for foot wear. I don't like them very much. I also wear a black jacket. I don't like that thing either. I ditch it every chance I get. I also wear a red flower in the first button hole in my shirt. When I wear clothes I look close to normal, but underneath I am embarrassed to say, I look far from normal. I have bun scars running up my arms (that's why my sleeves must ALWAYS be kept down) and I have scars in my belly from when I was shot. (Yes, I have been shot before. Although, I am physically fit and I have great abs. Now, on the topic of physical appearance, I'd like to mention that my voice really isn't that "raspy" (I just had a sore throat the day I went to Silvertongue's house). **

**Mentally, I'm really strange. Like, messed up. I don't know if I have the capacity to be normal. I have Bipolar disorder, and obsessive compulsive disorder. I anxiety issues and anger troubles. I don't have medication for my depressions and obsessions (my boss can't pay for them) and it has really taken a toll on me. I've tried to commit suicide many times. But coffee makes it all better. Bipolar disorder means I have severe mood swings and dips. I cannot control how I feel, and spontaneous crying, depression, fits of joy/laughing are symptoms I suffer from. Obsessive compulsive disorder…everything MUST be clean! If the counter is not sparkling then I won't be able to sleep or think about anything else. If my knife is not spotless, I go crazy. If my white shirt is not clean then than I can't concentrate. If I don't smell good, then I cannot focus on anything else. It really gets to be a pain. My anxiety issues come from being beaten, shot and shunned. My anger bouts take up 98 of my time. Just the littlest thing sets me off in a tantrum. Only people get killed in my tantrums. Despite my violent nature, I think and dream about the things most men do. But most of all, I long for a girlfriend. I've never had one before, and I'd just love to fall in love. I don't know what it's like to hold a woman close and feel her heart beat against my own…the mere thought of that makes me excited. But um, enough of that. **

**So you're probably wondering what the hell this is, right? Well, I'm not going to say it's a diary, because that sounds girly. It's more like a recalling of my past…not a life story though, because I don't have the patience to write all that. **

**Oh yeah, I can write by the way. My Nazi boss promptly forbid us of learning to read and write, so being a natural rebel, I took matters into my own hands and learned myself. (And my boss really wasn't a Nazi either…) **

**So yeah, that's all I really have to say so far, but I'll fill you in later on (When it's convenient for me). **

**-Basta**


	2. Im cOlD!

So this is the second entry

So this is the second entry. I see that you must have found the first one at least mildly interesting, so you were compelled to read the second chapter (or you were just really bored or pitied my sorry life). In case you were wondering, I am dead. Yeah, I know, it sounds strange, but I am. So I'm writing letters from my cloud. Ok, don't look at me that way. No I am not high. You see, if you want to be accepted into heaven, you must write out your life's major events, so God can decide if you are worthy of heaven or not (I'm going to have a tough time getting in).

Now, so you can get to know me better, I'd like to share with you a bit of my past, and how I came to be. Here goes:

When I was nine years old, I witnessed my father's death. He took a dagger in-between the eyes. I also saw my mother's rape and murder. It was awful. I ran away from home, and I was "adopted" by a man named Capricorn. He told me that every time is killed someone, I was avenging my parents. I believed him (in retrospect I want to slap myself). I obeyed him, and became his right hand man. I felt special and accepted for once and followed my master wherever he went. This got me into lots of trouble. For instance, one of our tasks as Capricorn's black jackets was to start fires (we were arsonists). I got a little too cocky one night, and I burnt my bare arms up to my elbows. I was embarrassed and horrified, and took to playing games with knives instead. Surprisingly, I'd never really had a bad accident with a knife…unless you count the time where I accidentally beheaded that pigeon…but I was an accident, I SWEAR!

In case you were wondering, it's cold up in the clouds. I am shivering right now. I hope God pays his heating bills!

And I have been straining to remember my name…sadly; my memory isn't exactly 100 (I'll explain later) so it's going to take a while to recall.

OK, now to elaborate on my bad memory. As some of you may know, I love animals. (Except pigeons). One day, in the Inkworld, I was riding my horse, Puzzle, through to woods. Sounds great, eh? Well, I'll have to mention that I'm not a very good rider, so when Puzzle took a sharp turn, I smashed my head on a tree. Everything past my 13 years of age is "fuzzy" (except for some really unnerving events). Not that you care or anything.

Well, I'd like to sign off here because I'm so cold I can barely read my own writing. So I'll fill you in on some more stuff next time.

-Basta


	3. VidEo GamEs anD cAkE

Wow

Wow! You're back. You must be pretty damned bored or whatever. I don't really know what you'd like to hear about (feel free to shout out suggestions!!) so I'm just going to ramble on about whatever I like.

I was told that I have a very dry sense of humour. I don't know if I can agree with that… I mean, I don't even know if I have a sense of humour! So I'll tell you a joke and I'll let you decide.

Ok, so why do fish live in salt water?

…

CUZ PEPPER MAKES THEM SNEEZE!!

AHAHA! I think that's great. To be honest, I think that's the only joke I know…wait, that was a lie. I do know a few other ones, but to be honest I don't know which age group I'm entertaining right now so I'd better keep those jokes to myself.

You know what I think is fascinating? SCIENCE! When I first came to this world I was ENTICED with all your crazy inventions and stuff. You all seem so smart. Then I heard of something called a scientist. I learned a bit more about them and decided that I wanted to be one! I wanted to be a scientist! I would invent all sorts of stuff and it would be awesome! :D let me enlighten you. One of my assignments was to kidnap a boy living in the village. Obviously I was Capricorn's right hand man, so I was given the job. I'd driven to that house (it was a mansion) and rapped on the door. No one answered, and it was then I realised that no one was home. So, I busted into the house (discretely of course). I looked around the space in awe, and decided to wait for the kid in his bedroom. I would leap out of the closet and snatch him when he was in bed. I hoped at the time that I'd give him such a good scare he'd be quiet all the way back to the village. Well, I waited and waited and waited. No one showed up, and my legs were beginning to cramp in that tiny little closet. So I tumbled out, and took a look around the kid's room. It looked like any other kid's room, only there was more stuff. One thing that caught my eye was the TV. I'd never seen one before, but I'd heard all about them, so naturally I knew how to work it. With quivering fingers I pushed the on button. An image appeared. I sprang back in surprise (I didn't think it would actually work). In the process, I stepped on a little remote control thingy (it looked sort of like the number 3 but with a bunch of buttons and stuff on them). All of a sudden the pictures started to move and a person on screen (I later learned that this was Master Chief from the Halo Trilogy) started to move, then he stopped. All sorts of gunfire was going off, and then my screen blinked red. I sprung into action and grabbed the remote. Without the slightest idea of what I was doing, I piloted Master Chief around screen. Video games are AMAZING! It's like a whole little world all wrapped up in a box! Ok, so as it turns out I have a natural gift for video games. Like, I have master skills. I beat a whole bunch of high scores! But, I became so enticed with the game, that I forgot that I was in someone else's house. The kid came upstairs and shrieked when he saw a stranger man sitting leg crossed, nose against his TV screen, yelling curse words at the blinking lights. In _my _state of fright, I threw the remote, and accidentally hit the kid in the head. He was knocked out…cold. I made a face and looked at the swelling lump on the boy's head. I decided that I'd probably ruined his life enough (how would YOU like to wake up to find a strange man playing video games in YOUR bedroom?) and left without him. Capricorn was NOT happy. (I on the other hand could think of nothing but video games for months afterwards).

So while we're on the topic of computers, there are 3 little things I'd like to add before I sign off:

1. Laptops are evil

2. Do NOT stick you hand into the motherboard

3. THE CAKE IS NOT A LIE!

-Basta


	4. GiRl fRiEndS

Hello again

**Hello again. Thank you Crystal, for your request. I never actually had a girlfriend…well, Ok, I might have, but that was when I was 15, not 12. So I guess I should share both times, shouldn't I? **

**Ok, so my 12****th**** birthday was a real drag. Capricorn tried to throw a party but it just turned into a drunk fest. You see, I walked into the barn to tend to my horse, Puzzle, and found a bunch of Capricorn's men standing around, drinks in hand. I was a little bit surprised, but played along with the whole thing. I don't have very much recognition of my twelfth year because when I was 13 I whacked my head really hard. But my birthday was **_**memorable**_**. God I get off track a lot. Ok, so drunk guys, yes. It was really just like any other party, only I was given a sword. I could barely lift the thing, so I kept it in my room for about 3 years. Being 12 blew majorly. I started to change physically, and I would prefer to not elaborate on what I found, where I found it and what happened and what I dreamed about. Aside from my failed birthday party one other big thing happened: I killed my first man. **

**It was a rainy day. The sky had been overcast for a week before it actually got around to raining. The sky was deep charcoal grey and purple and the air was warm and humid, threatening a thunderstorm. I was riding Puzzle back from the market, some stolen bread tucked inside my rucksack. Puzzle was spooked from the wind and the coming storm, so her steps were quick and tense. I was anxious to get back home too, so I let her go as fast as she wanted (now in retrospect I want to hit myself). Puzzle was booking. She was going so fast I was nauseous. I held onto her grey and white mane for dear life and let her have full control. We rounded a corner a bit too fast and the horse didn't see the small squad of soldiers sitting around a campfire. **

"**A BLACK JACKET!" Roared a fit young man. My eyes widened in horror. **

"**GETIM!" Screamed another. I kicked Puzzle as hard as I could, which, with my changing body, was **_**really **_**hard. That horse reared up and I slid down her sleek back and hit the forest floor. The wind came right out of me, and the rain started to pour. Tears came out of my eyes as I gasped. I struggled and sobbed and got to my feet. The soldiers were advancing on me, their pointy weapons aimed at my chest and belly. Puzzle, who I had raised since she was a baby, got defensive over me and knocked some of the men over. I seized my opportunity and groped for my knife. It was a puny little thing, it was 0 compared to the soldier's weapons, but it was all I had. I looked up just as one of them charged at me. I cried out and leaped forward. I felt a hot pain in my shoulder, and then I looked up. The soldier was leaning over me, a look of distorted pain on his face. He blinked, then blood poured from his mouth. He blinked his wet eyelashes and gawked at me as he died. I shoved him off of my knife and stepped back from the young man. He must have been 20. He was a blond, and had beautiful green eyes. The blood from his mouth and chest mixed with the rain and flowed down his body. To my great surprise, I started bawling. Broken, loud sobs broke from my chest and the pain in my shoulder became real. A sword was still stuck in there. Puzzle cantered over and I mounted up, letting her gallop away from the remaining men at arms. **

**Marjory was my first "girlfriend." I really don't like thinking about her because it hurts to this day to remember her pretty face, but because you asked I will share. Marjory was a bit older then me, only by a few months. She had thick wavy hair that tumbled down her shoulders. It was dark brown and red. She had big green eyes and pink cheeks and olive skin. She was shorter then me (which was quite a surprise, because I'm not a very tall man). Marjory always looked like she had a halo around her. She was never dirty and always wore a clean dress. Her favourite color was green. I think it suited her, along with pink. Marjory came to me when my bipolar disorder started to come out. I met her in the forest on a sunny and warm day. It was autumn and the sky was crisp. I was wandering about, kicking up leaves and swinging my sword. I wasn't fully dressed, either. I wore no shirt. It was resting on a rock in the sunshine. I hoped to warm it up before I went back to Capricorn's fortress. I took a hard swing, then heard a rustle in the bushes. I looked over, and saw two big green eyes peering at me. **

"**Heya" I said, curious. I saw her white teeth flash as she smiled. **

"**Hi" Her voice was confident and sweet. **

"**Who are you?" **

"**Marjory." **

"**I'm called Basta." She stepped out from behind the bush, her white cotton dress rippling in the breeze. She was wearing a waxy pink flower in her hair. **

"**Basta, where is your shirt?" **

"**On a rock." **

"**Oh" **

"**You are very pretty" **

"**Why thank you" she was blushing and I'm sure I was too. My heart was thumping in my chest really fast and I openly looked her over. She was so beautiful, I thought she was an angle, coming to take me away from all my pain and hurting. **

"**Are you an angel?" **

"**No" **

"**Oh…well, you look like one." **

"**You mean you know what an angel looks like?" **

"**Well, I don't know for sure, but if there are angels out there then they look like you" I can't even begin to explain how warm and nice Marjory made me feel. She walked over to me with unhumanly grace and held my hand. I shivered. Her hand was dainty and warm and fit so nicely inside my own. "Would you like to walk with me?" **

"**Of course" So we walked. We wandered through the forest until dusk started to come over the sky. I was sitting on the ground, Marjory on a log in front of me. We were looking at each other, then all of a sudden she tossed her hair to the side and blinked dreamily. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. To be honest, I didn't know what to do with her. From the only experience I'd ever had with sex, I thought it was bad. Really bad. Something people only do when they are bad, so I decided that Marjory's bottom half would stay to herself. But her top half was different. It had some kind of beckoning to it. I wanted to touch it, but didn't know how or when or even **_**why**_**. But Marjory had an idea. She leaned forward and took my hands in her own. She guided then to her dress and let me gently run my hands over the fabric of her dress. It gave me the strangest, most addicting feeling. I gasped, which made Marjory laugh. She sat on my lap and kissed all over my face. I just tilted my head back and let her do what she was doing. After a while, she stopped and looked at me expectantly. **

"**What?" **

"**Your turn." **

"**What do I do?" Marjory smiled. "Experiment" she said. With shaking hands I tried my best to make her happy. She was smiling the whole time. It was very erotic and exciting, and I wondered what else was possible. It was dark outside, and Marjory had me pinned on my back. She was straddling me, kissing my face and doing stuff that felt really good. I was making a lot of embarrassing noises, and couldn't hear the yelling of Capricorn's men over it. My memory of the event is a bit fuzzy, but I do recall the pleasure stopping as Capricorn's men approached. They shot Marjory with a crossbow. They had seen someone pinning me against the ground, and I was groaning, so they assumed I was in pain. That was my first and last 'girlfriend'. I tried to beat the men, but they were laughing so hard. **

"**Oops" they'd said. "Basta was gonna get laid!" **

**It makes me sad to think about Marjory, but I decided that women are not here to have sex with. Sex is bad. Very bad. So there you have it, a little bit more about me. If you have any questions, or suggestions about me next entry, go right ahead and suggest. I'm going to sign off now. **

**-Basta **


	5. DoRa Is BaD!

Hi there all you guys

Hi there all you guys. I am sorry I haven't written to you in a long time, it's just that I've never gotten any comments, therefore making me think that my story was irrelevant. But thanks to a comment I am happy to say that I will fill you in on another secret of my life. Like I have said earlier, I love getting suggestions on new topics to talk about, because quite frankly I don't ever really know what to say. I just babble. Which I guess is what I am going to do now. Babble. Here we go:

I'd like to share with you the time I was brain washed. Gothic, a bisexual black jacket and I were assigned a mission in an electronics warehouse. The plan was straight forward enough: get locked in the warehouse with all the goods, stack em' up in the loading dock, and load them into the van. Gothic and I had to wait until really late. We were cramped up in a spare box in the store, and I was beginning to get concerned because once my leg brushed against Gothic and I wasn't exactly sure if the stiff part of his jeans was his belt or not, so I hastily clambered out, shaking a little (for those of you who don't know I am homophobic). It was four hours away from the rendezvous, so Gothic and I had a lot of time to kill. At one end of the store was an example of a home theatre system. I had remembered seeing a few small children sit on the couch and watch TV as their parents contemplated buying a new plasma screen. I sat down on the soft leather and breathed a sigh of content and relief. I found a remote control beside me, so I turned on the TV, in hope for an action movie or something with explosions. Of course that was the last thing I got. Drawings….and lots of them. Drawings of a little girl in a pink shirt and black hair speaking in _Spanish_. I tried to change it, I wanted to, but it wouldn't let me. There were no more channels! Just this one. But I couldn't turn it off, either. It stayed. The remote must have been broken, because when I tried to turn it off nothing happened. I wanted to get up, to put this Spanish speaking horror to an end, but it didn't work.

_Holla amigos! Buenos Dias! _OH DEAR LORD NO! A SMALL CHILD WITH A TALKING MONKEY KNOWS MORE THEN I DO! OH NO! I couldn't pry my eyes away from the screen, and eventually, I couldn't even move! I was **brainwashed. **Oh the horror!

_DORA this DORA that DORA this DORA that DORA says don't touch the hot stove DORA says sing along as she runs through the forest DORA says that being a bully is mean DORA says that her map can speak DORA this DORA that DORA this DORA that. _

Then it had an effect on me. The song became stuck in my brain as if some one had chained it in there… the songs, oh the songs! So catchy in an awful juvenile sort of way…

_Back pack! Back pack! Back pack! Back pack! _

No! Get out of my brain! Leave now, foul Dora bitch! But she didn't.

_Holla amigos! Today we are going to find huevos at the farm! Can you say __huevos__? Hu-e-vos… that means eggs! _

Oh no! I found myself saying it… _huevos_… then it happened; I started dozing off, all the while Dora never stopped her endless Spanish chatter.

I awoke when Gothic shook my shoulder. Momentarily scared that I had been raped, I checked to see if my belt was done up properly. It was. I opened my mouth to ask Gothic what he wanted, but I was terrified with what happened:

"¿Qué usted quiere? ¡Oh mi dios! ¡Yo habla en Español!"

"Basta? What's wrong with you? It's like you're speaking some other language!"

"¡Mana ninguna mierda, por supuesto estoy! ¿Oh estimado señor qué ha sucedido? ¿Cómo hace este trabajo? I don' ¡t sabe español! Hablo inglés y alemán, that' ¡s el grado de mi conocimiento!"

"Oh gee, Basta, you sound like Antonio Banderas when he is _very _pissed off! Hey…why are you watching Dora the explorer? Small children watch this show, Basta!"

"It' s no mi avería… el telecontrol estaba quebrado. ¡Ahora ayúdeme a fijar este lío antes de que llegue a ser permanente!"

"Basta…. I can't understand you."

"ARRRGGGG!!" I threw the remote at him. As it came in contact with his head, the channel changed, and all of a sudden it was a big purple dinosaur on screen.

_Barney is a dinosaur from our imagination when he's small he's what we call a dinosaur sensation! _

Then an idea came to him. I knew it because I saw it in his eyes. He smirked and all I remember was his fist making contact with my face.

So as you may have guessed, I was re-brainwashed and English was again my normal language. It was quite the scary experience. I do not suggest falling asleep in front of Dora. She WILL brainwash you. It's no mercy with that bitch.

-Basta


	6. FitTinG iN

Thanks for the reviews guys, keep em' comin'

Thanks for the reviews guys, keep em' comin'! Crystal's suggestion reminds me of a freakishly similar event. By the way, thank you Crystal for your kind words! You make me feel FLUFFY INSIDE!

So here we go. It was Christmas time, and Gothic and I (remember Gothic?) decided to go to the mall to try and steal some of the money in those red buckets the guys dressed up as Santa carries. You know, the guys with the bells? Well, we were both kinda young and inexperienced at the time, and we were bad at hit and runs. But we tried one anyways. Oh my dear lord what a failure that was. So we got on either side of the Santa, counted to three and booked it. We attempted to clothes line him, but I ended up falling instead. BAM! There I was, laying on the ground, spare pennies and nickels rolling all around my head. I heard Gothic yell for me, but I groaned instead. I landed flat on my back, which is painful for your information. But as it turns out, Gothic wasn't the only person who was yelling: the fake Santa was screaming for mall security!

"Oh Dear lord please give me a break!"

"THIEF!" I got to my feet, but he whacked me in the head with his bell. "SECURITY!"

"SHUT THE F-"

"BASTA LETS GO!" Gothic was bookin' so I decided to run too. AHAHA take that stupid fat ass wanna be Santa! I pushed past him and ran behind Gothic. "Let's get out" he said.

"No way, did you see the doors? They're packed! We'll have to lay low and trick them." Gothic nodded in agreement. We snuck around the place, avoiding security best we could. But we knew that they'd find us soon enough. We were the only men in the mall dressed like Reservoir Dogs. (Well I was anyways, Gothic wasn't wearing a white shirt). Then we saw it, a group of teens, probably only 3 years younger then me, sitting around.

"Perfect" said Gothic. "We'll fit in with them."

"Erm, those are children…" I was 19. Most defiantly NOT a child.

"Basta they're hardly older then I am. Let's GO." He tugged me towards the kids, who looked up at us with lazy eyes and pouty lips.

"Can we, er, chill with you?" I asked.

"Ha. Do you hear this guy? He wants to _chill _with us." My German accent sounded severely out of place next to the kid's voice.

"Yeah, let him. I don't see why not." A sparkling blond chick, a real prep, grinned and nodded Gothic over. He grinned wildly and sat right up next her.

"Why you dressed like a mophia guy?"

Oh the unintelligence.

"I like your jeans" said another. I glanced down at my pair of black skinnies.

"Thanks" I murmured.

"So what do you guys do?" Asked a red head chick.

"Uh, do?" I was nervous. I felt so out of place amongst all theses kids. But Gothic didn't. He was snogging the blond prep.

"Yeah. Like, you in school?"

"Ha. I'm 19, dolt."

"University…" Shit. I was cornered.

"Naw."

"Ok then." They looked embarrassed to be around me. All of a sudden my only desire was to fit in with these guys. "So you're German?"

"Err, ja." They were interested, which made me sort of happy in a lame sort of way.

"Cool."

So we actually got along which made me grin inside. But it was foiled, when the security guard found us. They laughed when the security guard yelled

"HEY! THEY'RE THE ONES WHO STOLE MONEY FROM THE SANTA!" that bites. And we didn't even take the money. Nice.

-Basta


	7. TrAumAtizEd

Traumatized

**This is an extremely scarring chapter. Not for the faint of heart or those who love their mothers. **

I lead an exceedingly complicated life, with many rather complicated events. Some of these events may even classify as traumatizing.

trau·ma·tize **trou**-m_uh_-tahyz, **traw**-–verb (used with object), -tized, -tiz·ing.

1.Pathology. To injure (tissues) by force or by thermal, chemical, etc., agents

**2.Psychiatry. to cause a trauma in (the mind): to be traumatized by a childhood experience. **

So now you're probably thinking: gee, Basta. What happened that was so _traumatizing? _And guess what I say?

MIDDLE AGED WOMEN!

They're bad enough in the Inkworld, their falling out teeth and growing bellies, but in the modern world, your world, they are much, much worse…

Now you're probably thinking: Gee Basta, guess what? My mom is a middle aged woman and she's GREAT! And now I say: yeah guess what bitch, have you ever had one HIT ON YOU!? IT SUCKS.

Ok, so here's the story, I was in England with a few other mindless black jackets (what else is new!?) and we were walking down this street lined with hookers. Ok, so you male readers are probably like: hells yes! Hookers! Whoo! Gonna get laid, man! But I am going to put my foot down and say: NO! Why do I say no? Because they were:

Older then 35 and therefore OLD.

Had no more then 8 teeth left

Looked like they would smell bad (don't question me on this one)

Un attractive

And CRAWLING with germs and diseases… ewww STIs!!

Alrighty. So hookers in England are bad. Guess what's worse? Drunken soccer moms. Let me explain what one of them in particular looked like:

Bleach blond hair, plaster-y looking face, spent too long on the tanning bed, magenta lips, yellow teeth, wreaked of cigarettes, way too tight tank top, sagging breasts, floppy arms, thick black stubble around the arm pits (so revolting), chunky deodorant (which fell off as she raised her arms to cheer for her son), yoga pants slipping down to reveal her leopard pattern thong (GAG ME) and long claw like fingernails, painted hot pink. But it doesn't end there. Her legs were not recently shaven (like her pits), and she sported wart covered feet. Gross. But then she saw me. This is when it gets bad. She smiled at me and said in her "sexy voice" hey sugar.

I just about dropped dead. I had a nightmare about her that night. I don't want to get laid by her….don't let her get me! No! Not more middle aged women! NOOO!!

So that's bad, but there's something that's scarier (believe it or not). But this is not regarding middle aged women. This is regarding sheer creepy-ness. So I was walking down the street near one of those down town night time hot spots, and I saw this one lady from behind. She had long blond hair, and was pretty small and thin. I was a bit intrigued. So I walked beside her, turning to look in her face. She had rosy cheeks and big lips. She wasn't bad, so I spoke to her.

"Good morning" I said.

"Ohhhh, good morning stud." I of course screamed in sheer terror. Not because she called me stud (ladies, why _would _you call a guy stud? I'm curious) But because of her voice. She had the body and face of a 40 year old, but she had the voice of a 70 year old!! Then as I was running away I looked over my shoulder and saw that she was waiting outside the Plastic surgeons.

So that is why I am so scared of middle aged women.


	8. GuY MaGnEt?

Chapter 8- Guy Magnet

Chapter 8- Guy Magnet!?

Hi all. I would just like to thank all of you wonderful ladies (and…er…men?) who left reviews and suggestions. Today I would like to share with you THE most embarrassing moment of my life. Fasten your seatbelts, because here we go. (By the way, this chapter is rated M! You have been warned!)

This whole deal started when myself, Gothic, Raven and Muffin were on a computer in the library in the village just outside Capricorn's village. Capricorn was "away on business" (aka supervising his other hideouts) so the guys and I could do anything we pleased. So we were on this website called Quizilla (lame, I know, don't laugh at me) taking a series of personality quizzes, when we stumbled upon one called "what's your true bra size?" We all laughed and decided to take it, just for kicks. Gothic, being bi sexual (in my opinion really gay) earned himself a D cup. Raven a C, and Muffin a tripled D (I had no idea that existed). We were all laughing, then they turned to me.

"Your turn" said Gothic, hanging over the mouse.

"Ok." I shrugged and analyzed the questions. I answered as honestly as I could (the quiz was intended for chicks, so some of the questions were pretty unanswerable for us guys… I mean, what am I supposed to do when they ask me if im on the pill? Um, Advil?) The result loaded and I sat back, expecting an answer similar to Raven's.

A cup.

What the fuck? I answered almost just the same as Raven! The men laughed their heads off, and I sat there, baffled, and partly embarrassed. (Ladies, I am just going to put this out there right now: there is nothing wrong with being a size A. I personally prefer a lady with a smaller bust over one with Gibraltar under their shirt but ANYWAYS THIS IS GETTING A LITTLE WEIRD).

"Hey! What the fuck are you laughing at? Triple D? That's gross, man! Further more, why are you proud of your _breast size_? You are MEN for God's sake!" There was a short silence, then Raven spoke:

"It means we're manly men."

"What the fuck? Look at Gothic! He's the most unmanly man who ever walked the planet!" There was another pause.

"Basta"

"Yes, that would be me."

"I know how you can redeem yourself."

"Redeem myself?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, how the hell is that?" Raven sputtered on the laughter he tried to contain.

"Come bra shopping with us"

So they laughed…like hyenas. I was desperate to rid myself of the embarrassment, so I went on.

"Women with small busts get just as much attention as those with _melons_" I spat the word.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

"Fine." I got up and stormed out of the library, the three black jackets following close behind.

I decided that to prove my theory, I'd have to show those block heads, so they could see. To do so, I thought that disguising myself as a hooker was the best was to do so. I was 17 at the time, I was immature. Raven, Gothic and Muffin accompanied me to the lingerie store, where I purchased a size A bra and some other stuff that one may find provocative and find at a lingerie store…ahhg. I shaved my face smooth (not that there was much stubble there in the first place), bought a wig then got my makeup done at a M.A.C boutique. We'll just say that I looked ridiculous. Since I have a slender build (and even smaller and thinner as a teenager) I was able to pass off as a woman, standing at a whopping 5'9. I bought some high heels too, by the way. I did indeed look like a hooker, and it was quite embarrassing. Now in retrospect I would like to hit myself. This is actually quite painful to think back at…

ANYAYS

When it got a bit darker outside, I walked (more like stumbled in those damned shoes) to the cheap hotel, where several other hookers were already standing around. Gothic, Raven and Muffin stationed the car a safe distance away, so I stood under the sickly glow of the street lamp, chewing absent mindedly on a piece of gum, hoping all my spent money and ridiculous efforts were worth it. Then it happened. Out came the men. They varied from business men to "gangsters" (ha! I bet you they couldn't even handle a gun, let alone deal with millions of dollars, hard drugs and the Italian mophia). One man dressed in a blue pinstripe suit and outdated brief case came down the cracked sidewalk, his fedora covering his eyes. His shiny black shoes reflected the orbs of the street lights. He walked up and down the line of prostitutes before stopping at me.

"Haven't seen you around before" he mumbled. His breath smelt of a cheap cigar. His voice was deep and chilling… so familiar…

"Err, im new" I said in my best girly voice. I wished he'd move that hat out of his eyes.

"What do you charge for a quick one?"

"Uermm…" I was baffled. Some one wanted to do me…wait, a _man _wanted to do me... so wrong.

"C'mon, Sassy, we don't have all night." He snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"Seventy!" I cried, not having the foggiest idea on what a hooker would charge.

"Deal. You're cheap." He motioned for me to follow him, so I did, feeling lost, confused and uncomfortable and TRAPPED. I could almost hear Muffin and Raven laughing, and a picture of Gothic's jealous face made me almost snicker.

_Oh my dear lord I'm about to get fucked by a man! _

"Undress" said the mystery man, sitting on the edge of the bed.

_OH MY GOD he's going to watch me before he fucks me! Won't he notice im a guy? Will he STILL want me when he notices im a guy? Oh my lord why am I such a moron? _

I tentatively kicked off my shoes.

"Come on you, I need to see something interesting." The man sounded really pissed off. With all the will in me I threw myself into a position, posing, horrified with myself, but kept going, the want for the money forcing me to do what felt so wrong.

_EWW! I'M GIVING ANOTHER MAN A STIFFY! _

"Yes! That's what I like to see!" I was compelled to stop right after he said that, but I kept going, a gleaming 70 bucks in my mind's eye. Then disaster struck: Mystery man came over and started undressing me. Panicked, I tried to wriggle away, realizing NO money was worth _this _but I just succeeded in knocking off his hat. To my horror, I realized it was CAPRICORN! I gasped as he dove in for a kiss. I nearly vomited!

_MY BOSS (who is a MAN) STUCK HIS TONGUE DOWN MY THROAT! _

I tried to cry out and move away, but my wig came off as it hooked on the coat hangar.

"Oh dear god" I said, knowing that Capricorn would be murderous. Then he opened his eyes. When he saw who he was holding, he cried out and dropped me like I was hot.

"BASTA!?"

"….Yes, boss?" I was mortified. I was standing in front of my boss, in panties, and a bra stuffed with tissue, lipstick smeared and smelling of Vera Wang perfume samples…how lovely. And Capricorn was indeed furious (to put it lightly). He full out screamed at me, and it eventually sounded like backwards Latin. The look on his face mad it seem like he just came out of an exorcism. And I was terrified. From head to toe I was cold as ice. My stomach churned as embarrassment and sheer shame washed over me. The he hit me, punching me in the gut and bonkin' me on the head. I wasn't exactly very mobile in fishnets, so I tripped over a rug bunched up on the floor. I cried out as I fell backwards, and got a stiletto heel up my ass.

IT HURT SO BAD!

Then he started laughing. I got to my feet, the shoe not leaving my behind. It hurt to move, and having Capricorn laughing made it even worse. I hollered swears and curses as I yanked. OW. Capricorn then fell onto the bed, shaking as he laughed. I had no idea what to say or do, so I stood there, embarrassed.

Oh my god what a dumb idea.


End file.
